


The Mastery of the Master's Hand

by goatsongs



Series: Another Horny Day In The Canyon [2]
Category: CARAVAN - The Whisperforge (Podcast)
Genre: BDSM, Character Study, Consensual Violence, Demon Sex, Dom/sub, Dubcon due to power relationship, M/M, Master/Servant, Other, Philosophy, Power Exchange, Power Play, Size Difference, but dw its consensual, fuck you hegel, specifically you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goatsongs/pseuds/goatsongs
Summary: Who was he? Did a version of him exist that was not defined by Baal, or was his identity a reaction to Baal, or those who had come before him? If nobody would grant him his freedom, who was to say he existed at all? “Baal’s right hand man” someone had once called him. “Baal’s right hand” he had thought in response.The reflection of a servant on power, identity and pleasure.
Relationships: Baal/Virgyl
Series: Another Horny Day In The Canyon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843660
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Mastery of the Master's Hand

Virgyl could not remember the last time he had known freedom in his immortal life. Well, he supposed he could die, but it hadn’t happened yet. He would not admit it to anyone, almost to the point of not being able to admit it to himself, but humans were his favoured type of creature to exist on earth and he was fascinated by the fact that they had so populated the outer world. The Canyon could distort humans all it wanted, but it was always the case that a part of them would remain invariably human. In his long time under the management of Baal, which meant attending to the administration of most of the Canyon, he had spent the little free time he had searching for an answer to the question he kept asking himself: Why? Why did humans do what they do, in a manner so foolish and irrational, yet so unbearably powerful? And what was it, how could it be that he was so intrigued by these objectively weak creatures? 

So he had read. Obsessively and continuously, and over the centuries he had picked up an enormous amount of knowledge on human nature and the ways their petty minds worked. And in truth, he had a similar mind, for he too could philosophise on their imaginary debates in quite the same way. Of course, the matters of the heart were still a mystery to him in many ways but one. Routine was the only affection he could truly understand, and it never brought him to the sublime of human love, what humans could fight and readily die for, what they would throw themselves off a cliff for, make pacts with the devil for and, well. Love was still a mystery to him.    
  
“ _ VIRGYL! _ ” Baal’s thunderous call echoed on the walls of the cave, waking Virgyl from his thoughts. He scrambled up from the floor, where he had been sitting, letting the heat cook his insides and dull his senses.   
  
“My liege.” Virgil bowed as Baal entered. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Baal boomed, his enormous figure casting the room in shadow, though behind him flames seemed to rise.

The Lord of Hell, almost naked, with skin of a red so deep Virgyl sometimes got lost in the expanse of his chest. He was magnificent. 

“What can I do for you, my liege?” Virgyl said, tearing his eyes away from Baal’s enormous arms to look up at him and catching his black eyes. 

“Don’t you play coy with me, Virgyl.” Baal growled and stepped forward in challenge. 

Virgyl’s eyes flicked down, where Baal’s bulge stood out, covered only by a thin cloth that Virgyl had no idea why he even wore. Baal advanced on him, getting dangerously close to Virgyl’s face. Virgyl’s direct line of sight rested on Baal’s treasure trail, dipping down beneath the cloth. 

Virgyl was now halfway between miffed and horny. He looked up at Baal. 

“At your service” 

Virgyl knew exactly what Baal wanted, and neither had to really say anything. Their dynamics had been set, and Virgyl knew that this was the best way to keep his master at bay. He could pull back if he truly wanted, though he never really did, but that would entail engaging a part of himself he was not ready to reveal. For all the strange things at play between them, pride was the one thing that was intact, that Baal had never even come close to touching. He dropped to his knees. 

“Compliant today I see, Virgyl, what is it, Devil’s got your tongue?”

“You should hope not, for your sake,” Virgyl said and testingly licked Baal’s bulge through the smooth fabric. 

“Get on with it.” Boomed Baal, already tired of Virgyl taking his time. 

Virgyl sighed and, with a slick motion, ripped the cloth from Baal’s hips, revealing a magnificent erection in all its glory. Virgyl grabbed it at the base, briefly marveling at the deep, full amaranthine shade of Baal’s cock against his own dainty, lilac hand. 

He looked up to Baal, who was towering above him and looking down impatiently, and licked his lips lewdly, knowing precisely how good he looked from that angle. He took the head of Baal’s cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and wetting it. When he looked up again, Baal smiled down at him, showing teeth, as if he had requested Virgyl’s services solely to feel the gratification of a creature kneeling before him, powerless and wanting. If only to wipe that smile off his master’s face, without warning, Virgyl swallowed Baal’s cock as far as he could possibly go, and watched Baal’s eyes widen, a grunt trembling through him. Satisfaction didn’t last long, however. Recovered, Baal placed an enormous hand behind Virgyl’s face, a hand so big it could crush his skull, and its master would not hesitate to do so if it were in any way convenient to him, and thrust once. The head of his gargantuan cock hit the back of Virgyl’s throat with – Virgyl thought as he choked – frankly unnecessary force.    
  
Virgyl briefly thought about biting down, but to what purpose? Baal would only punish him harder, and yes, Virgyl would enjoy it. At the expense of his dignity, he would enjoy it. At the expense of his freedom, he would enjoy it. Leaving little time for Virgyl to recover, Baal thrust again, delighting in the gagging sounds he was causing. Virgyl felt his throat contract again and again, tears filling his eyes. His own cock hardened painfully as he struggled. The grunts and moans of his master, the rough rock beneath his knees, his vision fogged by his own tears, and the wiry hair of Baal’s crotch touching Virgyl’s lips as Baal held him in place – all of these things– contributed to the surging pleasure permeating his whole body. 

It was not quite enough to banish his thoughts as it sometimes happened when Baal would dominate him so brutally that his mind would dull pleasantly. Nothing would exist but him, his master, and what he could do to serve. 

No, this was a quickie, and however much he desired release, he would not get it. It was nothing, hardly a problem. That was simply his job, his life. He lived to serve his master, whether in fear or second-hand pleasure. He lived not to be, but to serve, to fear, to give. Nothing in return except perhaps the knowlwdge that he existed. 

Baal was merciless. He began fucking Virgyl’s mouth in earnest, to the point where he was no longer a mouth, and could no longer do anything but contain Baal’s hardness. A hole to be used. Annoyed at the turn of events, in which Virgyl couldn’t even taste the fruits of a task he knew he could do extremely well, he took the hand that was placed on the base of Baal’s cock, pulled back his fingers, and buried his sharp nails in the hot, hard skin. Baal roared in sudden pain, and while he slowed his thrusts in surprise, he did not stop fucking Virgyl’s mouth. Before Virgyl could do or think anything, Baal’s hand, which could fit twice on his servant’s face, slapped him across the cheek without warning. Virgyl tried to shout, then moaned, then slumped slightly, feeling the side of his face sting and his ears ring piercingly.    
  
His cock leaked against his trousers, yet release was still out of reach. Baal’s moans had turned into furious grunting as he thrust viciously, leaning forward as his hips carelessly bucked into Virgyl. His mouth and throat ached and pulsed with pain, and he wondered if, at this rate, he was going to be able to swallow. Baal’s movements became more and more irregular until finally they stuttered, letting out a roar which echoed on the walls of the cave, his colossal body shuddering. Warm spend shot down Virgyl’s throat, and he diligently swallowed as much as he could. Despite Baal’s hand still forcibly holding him still, he pulled away and spat the rest of the cum on the cave floor. Baal’s booming laughter filled the space.    
  
“Ungrateful slut.” He said, looking down at Virgyl with a lazy smile and a look still hazy from orgasm. 

Virgyl stayed on the floor, panting and unsatisfied, too tired and dejected to finish himself off. He wiped the dampness off his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at Baal with somewhat of a challenge, though there was hardly any challenge left in him. 

“I’m always grateful for what you give me, my lord.” He croaked out. 

“Ah!” Laughed Baal. “Then let me give you another  _ present _ .” He said, spitting out the last word with a rolling  _ r _ .

He walked over to Virgyl, placed a huge black hoof on Virgyl’s cock and pressed down with his weight. Virgyl let out a shout that turned into a desperate moan at the sudden and painful pressure. Then it was gone, and Virgyl was left, aching and needy on the rough stone floor, watching Baal’s muscular ass as he moved away, and with a snap of his fingers he disappeared in a shock of dark flames. 

Virgyl groaned. He unfastened his trousers and pulled out his erection, rubbing in fast and careless strokes, and in a few desperate moments he came. On the floor his own cum mixed with Baal’s.

With a snap of his own fingers he was clean, and with another he was dressed in a different and clean suit. He brushed himself off nonchalantly and looked around. 

“Kerberos! Walkies!” He called, his voice still rough and broken from Baal’s violence.

From the stone corridor behind the room he heard the pitter patter of the monstrous three-headed hound’s tiny paws.    
  
  


* * *

That incident had been much like many others with Baal. He was a cruel and careless master (most were), but it awakened in Virgyl a strange line of thought, a question. One he had found in many of the human texts he had managed to acquire. 

_ Who am I? _

And so his musings on identity began. Truly, who was he? What is the existence of a Djinn if not defined by whom they are in service of? And in truth, he watched Baal as if watching a grander version of himself, one who could do so much more than himself with his freedom, and yet he chose to crawl and laugh and fuck and exert power over him in an endless circle of indulgence. 

Who was he? Did a version of him exist that was not defined by Baal, or was his identity a reaction to Baal, or those who had come before him? If nobody would grant him his freedom, who was to say he existed at all? “Baal’s right hand man” someone had once called him. “Baal’s right hand” he had thought in response. What is a hand if not a tool for power of the body and the mind, blindly awaiting the instructions of its owner, to service his cock whenever he should please, to reach for his food whenever greed would demand, to choke insubordination out of his slaves, those with no free will except perhaps to avoid the burning flame, when brought too close. And even then that choice could be overruled by the master in an instant. 

The days and nights in the lower circles of the Canyon passed by him as he did nothing but rise, work, sleep and repeat. He walked around Hell with his clipboard held in his left arm, relaying increasingly impassioned complaints from the D.A.D.I. to Baal, surveilling and keeping track of the growing unrest in the factions loyal to Baal and cleaning up any mess left by his master which might incite the inhabitants of the lower circles into rebellion. He was also keeping scouts out to expose any illegal activities in the Canyon – the very loose concept of illegality given to him by Baal, to be approximated as “ _ anythin’ that A dinnae like _ ” – and surveilling the edges of the Canyon in search of any human stupid enough to make a deal with him. Most of them were. His only moments of respite were his walks with Kerberos in the upper circles of the Canyon, where the heat came from the sun rather than the blazing pits of Hell. 

He knew the Canyon like the back of his hand, a bittersweet home where he could reside with his witless dog. Everyone in the Canyon knew his face, most regarded him with a second-hand fear for his master, some regarded him with spitting hatred, a selected few even viewed him with apprehensive fondness; and he knew everyone’s faces… though he did occasionally forget names. Nonetheless, he was proud and diligent in his many jobs, and he carried a fair amount of influence in all corners of the Canyon. He had informants and intel that Baal wasn’t even remotely aware of. Baal had grown lazy during the years of Virgyl’s service, and had taken to delegate even the most futile of tasks. 

Virgyl had started growing concerned on his master’s behalf. As Baal’s right hand, it was normal for him to be worried about Baal’s abilities, but really, he began thinking, what would Baal be able to do without him? Who would keep the crowds of unhappy demons at bay, who would interject the D.A.D.I. reports, who would run in circles at Baal’s every whim? Who would allow Baal to choke them out in sudden anger without fighting back if Virgyl wasn’t there? Whose mouth would he fuck, and would a substitute be ever as willing, ever as present as Virgyl was? 

Virgyl had a scope of the canyon that Baal wouldn’t even be able to wrap his huge head around. He knew the lore inside and out, he protected and held up the barrier to the outer world entirely by himself and had for a long time. And he had his wishes.

These were the thoughts that rose within him, revelation after revelation came like waves on a shore, steady and growing with the tide. Something was coming, something was going to happen soon, it was bound to, in a Canyon that had been quiet for so long. A force stronger than anything Virgyl had ever felt was moving closer to the mouth of Hell, and everyone would be hit by it. It was time for Virgyl to count his blessings, or, well, his damnations –  _ damn _ , he really was reading too much human literature – and assemble his own powers behind Baal’s immense back. 

For the first time in centuries, Virgyl allowed himself to count the number of wishes that separated him from freedom. It was low, lower than he expected or remembered, and while Virgyl disliked the uncertainty of a future without Baal as his master, or even as the Master of Hell, this appeared to him as an invaluable opportunity to assert himself. Baal wanted to use him? Very well. He would make himself indispensable.    
  
Was there any greater power than that of being needed?    
  
  


* * *

A plan was devised. It was not a plan that would do anything for Virgyl immediately, in truth, but it was a test to his own power. A test to how far Baal would be willing to go just to have him. A shift in their relationship, perhaps, one where Virgyl might even be able to gain the upper hand.   
  
His master was not well known for having much self-control, after all. 

He was going to wait until Baal came to him, something he knew he was not going to have to wait very long for. 

Sure enough, a mere two days later Baal appeared in a bout of flames and stomped around Virgyl’s cave like he owned it. Which, in all fairness, he did, as much as a part of Hell could truly be owned. Virgyl sighed, folding the magazine he had been reading and standing up from his chaise (a new addition, since Virgyl had discovered the delights of self-indulgence). 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Master?” He said with a bow.

Baal stopped pacing and looked at him. 

“To me, idiot.” He said, and roared with laughter. Virgyl did his best not to roll his eyes. He was going to struggle making himself wanted if Baal insisted on being so unfunny.

Baal advanced on him, a strange intensity in his eyes. Virgyl, despite the shiver that always ran down his spine whenever Baal walked toward him with the obvious intention of fucking the shit out of him, sighed nonchalantly.

“What do you want, Baal?” 

Baal’s eyebrows shot up. “Impertinent today, are we?” He said, his voice booming. 

Virgyl didn't say anything, and as Baal advanced, he was crowded against the cave wall. Baal let out an impatient growl.

“You know what I want, Virgyl.” He said, voice rising with anger. 

It took Virgyl everything he had not to laugh. His plan was working wonders, and he hadn't done a thing. He was thankful that Baal’s first instinct upon not having something immediately was to act like a spoiled child. It made his work so much easier, for his master to be so predictable. 

“Well?” Virgyl said encouragingly.    
  
Baal grabbed his wrist and pushed it against the wall. Virgyl felt the heat emanating from it against his skin. He shivered again. He wanted this too, but Baal was going to have to want it more. 

“Well,  _ WHAT _ ?” Baal shouted, leaning down to get closer to Virgyl’s face. He felt a speck of warm spit land on his cheek. Trembling ever so slightly, Virgyl realised he was already painfully hard. He took a deep, quiet breath. 

“In order to request a wish, one must enunciate it clearly.” He said quietly, repeating one of the rules he had given Baal when he had first entered his service, word by word.   
  
Baal’s face changed, as if suddenly remembering that theirs was an agreement, a contract, that Baal was bound to just as much as Virgyl was. Something akin to fear flashed across Baal’s dark eyes, before his upper lip curled in a strangely alluring expression that looked very close to disdain, revealing a sharp set of teeth that set Virgyl’s blood running cold. No doubt Baal was trying to be sweet. 

“Virgyl.” He said in a low voice, his bassy tones reverberating through his body. To Virgyl’s surprise, Baal placed the hand that wasn’t holding his wrist against Virgyl’s cheek. It was so large it covered the whole half of Virgyl’s face, with his thumb resting beneath his jaw. When Virgyl shivered at the contact, Baal’s smile widened with satisfaction. He moved his hand to place his thumb on Virgyl’s lower lip, and Virgyl’s mouth opened without his permission.    
  
Baal was smart, Virgyl knew this very well, and it was that much more obvious when it came to manipulating people into getting exactly what he wanted. His thumb slipped into Virgyl’s open mouth, filling him and making him moan desperately. An imploring need within Virgyl begged him to let go, fall to his knees and let Baal do with him whatever he pleased, it battled within him as Baal pushed deeper with his thumb, almost touching the back of his throat– Virgyl’s eyes shot open suddenly, meeting his master’s eyes. His large, black pupils were blown in pleasure.   
  
Virgyl mentally cursed himself for almost letting go. With his free hand he guided Baal’s hand away from his lips, afire with the power he was already exerting on his master. Lust and fear had rendered him almost quiet, except for his warm, heaving breaths, as he allowed his servant to move him.   
  
With his mouth free, Virgyl moaned outrageously.   
  
“Your wish, my liege?”    
  
Baal’s eyes flickered along Virgyl’s body, searching for something and perhaps not even knowing what. Virgyl, throwing all caution to the pits of Hell, moved his hand from Baal’s wrist and rested it on Baal’s crotch, feeling the thrilling hardness beneath his nimble fingers.    
It was Baal’s turn to tremble, and once again Virgyl breathed in the intoxicating pleasure of being in control.   
  
“I want to fuck your hole.” Baal said in thick Scots, and Virgyl reckoned that was enough of a well-worded wish to fulfill. With the hand that Baal was still holding against the wall, without leaving Baal’s eyes with his own, Virgyl snapped his fingers once and his clothes disappeared.    
  
The moment of stillness between them broke as soon as he did, and Baal’s face darkened as he licked his lips. Without warning he grabbed Virgyl by the hips, twisted him and slammed his lissom body against the rough wall, pressing his hand to the middle of Virgyl’s back with a force that made Virgyl shout out. Baal growled against his ear. 

“ _ Whore. _ ” 

It was a good thing that part of Virgyl’s plan had been to prepare himself, because Baal, almost carelessly, almost as if trying to hurt him, pushed his leaking cock between Virgyl’s cheeks and pushed in dry, grunting as Virgyl mewled at the harshness of the act. It didn’t matter, really, because Virgyl had gotten exactly what he wanted and was now going to get fucked so roughly he was going to forget about his own damn name. 

He was wanted, he was in control, with a few words and the confidence of a devil he had obtained something he hadn’t even known he had yearned for. A wish to fulfill, a step toward freedom, and the knowledge that his master needed  _ him. _ _  
_ _  
_ The pleasure was priceless. Baal pushed into him faster, grunting as they moved together, as the cave wall scraped against Virgyl’s soft skin, and Virgyl’s cock was already leaking as its head occasionally touched the rough stone. He heard more than felt Baal spit on his ass and use his fingers to scoop up the spit and wet his cock. Virgyl’s hole was achingly empty for barely an instant before Baal pushed inside again, and began slamming against him. Virgyl was delighted to feel pain as his master’s huge balls slapped against his own. He moaned again as a chorus of wet sounds and shouts of pleasure filled the room and echoed against the walls, and he felt in communion with the demon driving into him with anger and lust so potent it had lit fire at their feet.    
  
His entire being was alight with the flame of revelation, as fire arose beneath his feet and his hole ached around Baal’s girth.   
  
They drove each other closer to the edge, and just as Virgyl’s hand reached down to stroke his own erection, Baal grabbed both his wrists and held them above his head with a single hand, while the other held his hip strongly enough to bruise it. Virgyl sighed, thinking he was going to have to finish himself off again, albeit with some more satisfaction than usual, when Baal did something so surprising it almost choked the air out of him. Virgyl felt the large, rough palm of his master leave his side and wrap around his cock, and it took no more than two strokes for Virgyl to finally reach the edge. A surging warmth spread through his entire trembling body as all he could see was a blinding white. 

Distantly, he heard Baal laugh almost– as absurd as that may sound– softly and say, “ _ Needy cunt. _ ” As he drove him into the wall.    
  
After the shocks of orgasm came to a halt, Virgyl’s entire body slumped against the wall as Baal continued to use him, and Virgyl thought it impossible that he could feel any better than he felt at that very moment. Crystalised in his mind was the feeling of Baal pleasuring him, and Virgyl had little thought that was not one of marvelous triumph. Finally, Baal’s hips stuttered violently, and he shouted out as his cum filled Virgyl.    
  
They lay there, both slumped against the wall for what seemed like minutes that could turn into hours. The flames by their feet had died down, but around them the heat of the lower Canyon filled their veins and their lungs and whatever they had that could be described as their souls.    
  
Finally, Baal pulled out, and Virgyl scrambled around to look his master in the eyes, his jaw still slack with pleasure, and the side of his face scratched raw. How someone so utterly used and ravaged could look so triumphant was something Virgyl did not have to think about, for he could not see anything but his master looking down at him with a strange question in his eyes. 

“It was a pleasure, my liege.” Virgyl gasped as he fell to his knees.    
  
Baal said nothing, for a moment. He spat, and his spit landed on Virgyl’s cheek, just beneath his right eye. Then, without so much as a word, Baal snapped his fingers and a bout of flame engulfed him.    
  
Virgyl was left, tired, filthy and consumed on the floor of his cave. He smiled, then chuckled, and then he began laughing loudly, relief flooding his entire body.    
  
Who was he without Baal? No. The question was, who was _ Baal  _ without  _ him _ ?  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Boy was that fun to write! This is the first proper smut I write so if you enjoyed it please do leave a comment and let me know what worked/what didn't. 
> 
> I felt like the CARAVAN ao3 tag needed some good ol' demon sex and I am happy to provide service. I hope my high-school philosophy prof knows that I am putting his lifelong knowledge to good use lol
> 
> Thank you to my beta @oscarlovesthesea for reading my horrible demon smut, once again please know that I would do anything for you; and thank you to robyn for helping me with scots, im sorry i used your amazing knowledge for such evil purposes. 
> 
> Finally, you can [ join the Lilac Caravan discord server here](https://discord.gg/TmMKFwKKYu) , it's pretty quiet for now, but we have good fun. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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